Millionaire Wives Club Read Free Page A

Kendu said, looking toward her, “we need to go someplace and talk.”
    Evan slammed a glass on the island. “Oh, I know damn well you’re not speaking to me now?” She pointed to her chest. “I thought you were reading the paper? Well, read the motherfucker then.” She knew she was starting to spaz a little too much.
    “Evan…,” Kendu called.
    She swallowed. The tone of Kendu’s voice rang in her head like raging drums.
    “Evan—”
    “What?!” she screamed.
    Kendu sighed. “I’m asking you nicely to please let’s go to lunch, dinner, or something—”
    “I’m so sick of motherfuckers,” she said more to herself than to him.
    “Evan, it’s not my intention to hurt you. I just think we need to live in two different places.”
    “For how long?”
    “How am I supposed to answer that?”
    “It was your bitch-ass idea. I mean really, since we’re being so fuckin’ adult”—she threw her hands in the air—“let me ask you this: Are you gon’ still fuck me, or you bouncin’ wit’ the dick too?”
    “I’m not doing this with you,” he said.
    “Oh really, I thought we were keepin’ it real. Tell me, Kendu, we gon’ still fuck or does your leaving come attached with the line of ‘we can still be friends’? Or are you”—she made air quotes—“‘honest’ enough to admit that you’re looking for some groupie-ass bitch?!”
    Kendu narrowed his eyes. “That’s enough.”
    “I thought we were talking, Mr. I-Need-Some-Space.” Evan spun on her heels. “You know I’m not stupid, don’t you?! I know you’ve been out there on the road after one of your games, fucking some bitch! I know it; I should’ve known I was too good for your ass!”
    “Too good? Have you lost your goddamn—” Kendu paused and started pacing the room, the cuffs of his black Versace pants swayed over his matching Prada loafers. The arguing and cussing, especially like this, was taking him out of his element. He was used to being cool, calm, and collected, with the ability to say how he felt and bring peace to the situation, all while never having to raise his voice. It was how he’d remained one of the New York Giants’ star players and had avoided scandal.
    It wasn’t that he didn’t know what he’d said to Evan was hurtful; he did, but, shit, it was hurting him even more to look in her face. “Like I said: This is done,” he said. He grabbed his keys and walked toward the front door.
    “You must be cheating on me!” Evan blocked his path and shoved him. “I’ma kill that bitch! I promise you I’ma kill her! Who is she?!” Evan yelled so loud that specks of spit flew into his face. “Just admit that it’s Milan!” Evan attempted to shake Kendu, but he was too big, too strong, and his six-foot-three muscular frame was too burly for her to move him.
    Evan could tell he was getting angrier by the second because of how his jaw tightened and his pecs thumped twice. She knew she was pushing her luck, but there was no way she could stop now. “How could you do this to me?!” She slapped him.
    Kendu lifted his hand and, midway into his instantaneous reflex to slap her ass back, he stopped. “Didn’t I tell you before to keep your hands to yourself?” he warned. “Stop fuckin’ putting your hands on me. Because if I bring it, I will knock your ass down and you will not get up.” He turned away from her and toward the door.
    Evan ran around him and blocked his path once more. “Oh, you wanna hit me!” she screamed. “You wanna beat me now?! Do it! Just do it. I know you want to.” She shoved him again.
    Kendu looked at Evan in disgust. He was tired of the dramatics, of her mental instability, and her constant nagging and begging. He didn’t hate her, but he was starting to, and if she continued to put her hands on him when they were arguing, he knew it would be only a matter of time before he blew his fuse and gave her what she’d been asking for.
    Even though he was the athlete, Evan was